Utonium the Victim
by Bob the Flying Monkey
Summary: After being brutally assaulted and beaten within an inch of his life, Professor Utonium is rescued and nursed back to health. The catch: he doesn't know who his savior is.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Powerpuff Girls. They belong in part to Craig McCrackin, the darling husband of Lauren Faust who we credit for creating My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic. Now you know a nerd thing._

* * *

With all the supernatural villains his daughters faced on a daily basis, Professor Utonium had never imagined the criminals to do him in would be common teenage thugs. Common people had gotten so violet, he knew from the endless stream of media coverage on the growing issue. But Townsville had always been an exception. Until today.

Utonium had been fueling up his car after a late-night grocery trip when the three punks approached him. The station was abandoned except for him, and he realized in hindsight that he should have seen the risk.

The tallest boy put a gun directly in his face. "Gimme your money."

Professor Utonium put his hands up. "Now fellas, this doesn't have to result in violence..."

The boys scowled. "You condescending us?" the leader asked, thumbing the hammer.

"No, never," the Professor said hurriedly.

"I think he is, Tony," the goon on the right said. "He being disrespectful." The third boy stood silently, cracking his knuckles and his neck.

Utonium wasn't sure what in particular set them off, but in the minutes that followed he was beaten, kicked, pissed on, and then robbed of both his car and his wallet. It was in this state, sobbing fetal in a pool of his own blood, that he was found by the last person he wanted to see.

* * *

At about 3:30 am, Bubbles woke up from a nightmare crying. She jumped out of bed and zipped across the hallway to her father's room. "Professor!"

But the warm arms that usually comforted her were not there. At first she was confused, effectively stopping her tears. Then she got worried, and quickly searched the whole house for him but came up empty.

"Girls!" she squealed, flying into the bedroom and waking up her sisters, "The Professor is missing!"

"What do you mean he's missing?" Blossom asked, rubbing her eye.

"He's not here!"

"Of course he's here, Bubbles," Buttercup scolded her. "Go back to sleep."

"Hang on," Blossom began, "Let's look through the house before we make any assumptions." The leader got up and searched the whole house over, then went outside and searched around the yard and the neighborhood. When she came back, wide awake, she announced, "He's not here."

"What?" Buttercup asked, suddenly alert.

"That's what I said," Bubbles pouted.

"Are you sure?" Buttercup asked.

"Positive. His car is gone, too," Blossom said.

Buttercup then searched the entire house for the third time and came back with the same conclusion. "Where did he go?"

"I don't know. It's not like him to leave in the middle of the night."

"He was kidnapped!" Bubbles cried, bursting into tears.

"We would have heard it if someone broke in. But the front door was locked. He probably just left to run an errand," Blossom said, trying to convince herself.

"At 3 in the morning?" Buttercup asked skeptically.

"Okay, maybe not. But he didn't just disappear. His car is gone, so he must have taken it somewhere." The red head pondered their options. "Let's go back to bed and wait until morning," Blossom suggested. "If he's not home then, we'll tell the mayor and go looking for him."

Buttercup huffed and plopped back into bed. Bubbles wrung her hands nervously. Blossom put an arm around her shoulders and tried to reassure her. But none of them could sleep again that night.

* * *

It was hot - oh so very hot - in the red-walled cavern where Utonium found himself. His eyes were swollen shut, making it near impossible to see anything beyond his eyelids. They stung, too, from the blood dripping out of a gash in his forehead. At least he wasn't on the ground anymore. His spine and ribs ached from where the thugs had kicked him as hard as they could, but at least the soft mattress beneath him made it a twinge more bearable.

He had only just come to; the transportation to wherever he was now had allowed him to pass out from the trauma. Now not only was he horribly messed up, but he also had a splitting headache.

Just then, the sound of footsteps coming up from another room caught his attention. They were slightly clipped, not the shuffle and drag he was used to from Townsville citizens. Whoever this was, s/he put thought into each step.

Utonium was glad that at least his sense of hearing was functioning. The slosh of water and light thud of something being deposited on a table let him know that his mysterious rescuer was about to attend to him. He tried to say something, to thank the stranger for being such a Good Samaritan, but his lips were too swollen to pig even a word through.

Water spilled into water - he was going on his senses of touch and hearing alone - and then a damp cloth was pressed to his face. It dabbed gently at him, warm and soft, working at the blood he knew he was covered in. The Professor could only lay there and allow his caretaker to attend to him. Neither spoke - oh how he wished the stranger would speak, at least to let him hear a kind voice while he was being treated - and the silence stretched on uninterrupted.

Once finished washing his face, the stranger moved to a container of items the Professor hadn't heard be brought in. After a short bit of rifling, a glob of cool goo was smeared on his cheek. He felt the healing salve apply to every burning inch of his face, relishing in how it doused the flames of pain. Then the sound of tape being stretched out struck his ears. A small square of cotton fell on his forehead over a particularly throbbing gash, and was soon taped down. It must have been sterile gauze, he realized. Perhaps the Samaritan had rescued others before.

After his face was sufficiently patched, the Professor heard a light grunt as the stranger scraped against the floor beside his cot. The grunt physically rose and faded. Then the water sloshed above his head and the careful footsteps retreated from the room.

Utonium sighed. His heart ached for his girls, simultaneously grateful that they didn't have to see him in such an awful condition. He thought about asking his companion to call them - let them know he was alright - but eve after all the attention his lips would not allow talk. His throat also burned and throbbed, and the ugly thought that he might not be able to talk even with normal lips nagged at him.

He tried to speak, to push any sound out of his vocal chords, but the attempt only resulted in sudden violent coughing. His whole body screamed from the spasms, his headache pounding against his skull. A few tears squeezed out of his eyes, and it was like a dam broke. The sudden waterfall only served to hurt his head further.

A hand touched his cheek, surprising him so that he flinched rather painfully. "Shh," the stranger soothed, dabbing at his tears lightly with a tissue. He hadn't heard his caretaker come in, and was a little embarrassed to be seen in so weak a state.

A pillow was shoved behind his back, and he was made to sit up at an awkward angle. Apparently there were several pillows behind him, so that he put no effort into maintaining the upright position. His head was well supported from the mountain of padding. He heard a water bottle crinkle next to his head, then his mouth was coaxed open and a stream of liquid was poured in. He drank it greedily, thankful that it wasn't ice cold, just slightly cool. It eased his throat and the burning that his coughing had caused.

The water bottle was set down in favor of something in a glass or ceramic dish. He heard soft blowing, and the smell of warm soup hit his nose. The stranger was going to feed him. As if on cue, his stomach rumbled. A breathy giggle followed. Utonium found he liked the laugh, and that it sounded slightly feminine. He settled into his pillows. A pretty caretaker was just the perfect icing for this unexpected kindness.

The thin soup that slid down his throat had a hint of medicine taste in it, which was acceptable to him. As he drank, he found his headache ebbing, and was all the more grateful for his caretaker. When this was over, he swore to himself, he was going to pay her back tenfold.

* * *

 **A/N: Who do you think this mysterious caretaker is? I know, of course, but it's fun to watch you try and figure it out.**


	2. Chapter 2

After an unknown length of time, the Professor woke up in his temporary bed. He was lying on his back, far less propped up than when he had fallen asleep after dinner. He could feel a slew of new bandages populating his arms, chest, ribs, back, and legs. He was suddenly glad that his attackers had avoided his nether region.

The cool healing salve had seeped into his skin hours ago, but he could already feel its effects mending his broken flesh. As for the bones, he had no idea how they were faring, but he did know that his torso was fully immobilized. Funny, he couldn't feel any brace or splints, but he also couldn't move his hands enough to touch them. His muscles were too sore to move. Just trying made him tired enough to quickly give up and regret the attempt.

He breathed in deeply, pulling air through his lungs, and was pleasantly surprised when the act didn't result in another spout of coughing. Tongue prodding his lips, he tested the diminished swelling. His jaw ached when he further opened his mouth, but it didn't seem that any bones therein were broken. Opening his mouth, he attempted to speak, but all that came out was a pitiful creak. His mouth closed in defeat, lips stretching into a thin frown.

He wanted to cry, wanted to go back to before when the worst that ever happened to him was sitting uncomfortably in some lair for a few hours waiting for his girls to rescue him. He'd take that form of helplessness over this one any day.

At length, he heard footsteps, and his mood brightened at that alone. Following the sound was a warm aroma of food, which set his stomach to grumbling. The steps drew closer, then stopped within reach of his bed.

Utonium heard a tray be put down near his head, then a soft but sturdy hand slipped behind his head and propped him up to eat. As he was fed, the hand behind his head gently rubbed at his scalp, as though unaware it was doing so. He could feel a thumb and a few fingers. The thumb stroked behind his ear, releasing endorphins that helped with the pain he was in.

The soup was tasty, different than the previous meal's selection. It had a soothing, brothy quality that lacked solid chunks. But it was filling, and it rested easily in the Professor's stomach.

Utonium gave his best attempt at a smile once his nurse was finished feeding him. He was left to his thoughts as the tray was removed from his room. It was agony to be unable to properly thank his caretaker. There was so much he want to say, wanted to ask. Why hadn't his girls been contacted? Why wasn't he in a hospital? The Professor knew intrinsically that he was in a domestic residence rather than a professional clinic, although he didn't understand how. It was something about the atmosphere and the lack of noise or other individuals. For all he knew, it was only him and his single caretaker in this place.

He considered the notion that his caretaker may not realize he had family - he wasn't married and therefore had no ring, and the thugs that beat him up had taken his wallet and his car. He had been left with no identifiers of any kind. It was possible that the caretaker didn't even recognize him as the Professor who had created the Powerpuff Girls. Though he couldn't see his face to assess the damage that had been done, he understood that he couldn't have looked like himself at the moment.

He was still ruminating when the person in question returned to his side. A chair scraped across the floor, pulled to the foot of the bed.

"Nod if you can hear me," a feminine voice whispered. "I'm going to check your healing progress."

The Professor nodded.

"Okay. This may hurt."

His covers were rolled up above his feet, above his knees, resting in a wad across his thighs. Fingers prodded his feet, ankles, calves, knees. He cringed over a particular spot on his left shin where one of the thugs had stomped on his leg after kicking them out from underneath him when he tried to get away.

"I'm going to attempt to stretch your muscles so that your legs don't atrophy," she whispered. He nodded.

The pain that followed was nowhere near the level of the beating he'd gotten, and he tried his best to not cry out. After a few pumps of the right leg, his caretaker moved on to the left leg, which was in so much pain that Utonium couldn't bite back tears and ended up cutting the exercise short.

"I'm sorry. Your left leg is broken. It may have to atrophy until the bone heals." The covers were replaced and smoothed, then a damp cloth was wiped across his face and forehead. "You're doing so well," she whispered reassuringly. "The swelling around your face has gone down tremendously. Pretty soon, you should be able to talk. But it's best if you don't strain your vocal cords trying yet."

The Professor only nodded, but something was bothering him. Why was she whispering?

Could it be that his rescuer was hiding him from some abusive superior? Maybe she was a slave or a subservient minion. But for whom? The Professor could see Mojo or Sedusa or - heaven forbid - HIM having slaves. Or that one evil cat. Whoever it was, they would punish her greatly if they found out she'd been nursing him back to health.

He began to entertain the idea, fantasizing about how he would eventually rescue her from her evil master. It put his smile back on his face.

A small pat to his arm startled him. "I'm glad you're feeling better. You had me worried when I first brought you home. If I'm honest, I didn't think you would make it at first. There was so much blood... sorry, you don't need to hear that. But now I'm confident you'll make a full recovery."

The Professor tried to mouth the words "thank you."

"You're quite welcome," she replied.


End file.
